


Reunion

by riventhorn



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Loki has complicated feelings, Loki is somewhat perturbed by Thor's new haircut, M/M, Reunion Sex, Spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 04:45:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: After so long apart, Loki can't help being drawn to Thor





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers for Thor:Ragnarok**
> 
> Just a few missing scenes from the movie--slightly AU at the end.

Loki waited in the corridor a prudent amount of time to ensure that Banner’s brutish alter ego had indeed left to train and wasn’t going to come popping back because he forgot his helmet or the way to the arena. Besides, he needed time for his heart to settle. There was no cause to give his brother a chance to see how much the fight had shaken him.

Although ‘shaken’ wasn’t quite the right word, was it? A shiver traveled up his spine, and he bit down on his lower lip. He could almost see the afterimage of the lightning still burning against his eyelids. 

He’d thought Thor crippled without his hammer. But that strike had been more powerful than any he’d ever seen. 

Thor was brooding by the window when Loki slipped in the door, easily overriding the security code. He glanced over at the sound of Loki’s footsteps, and then grunted and turned away again. 

“I suppose you are not here to let me out.”

“Not quite yet, brother. We need to bide our time, wait for the opportune moment.” 

An impatient rumble vibrated in Thor’s chest, his hands curling into fists. 

“Besides, you need to recover from the fight,” Loki added, putting a hand on his arm. Attendants had cleaned the blood and sweat off Thor, but the faint smell of ozone lingered in the air.

Thor was silent for a moment. “I do not know what happened,” he said at last. “I thought I could only summon the lightning with the aid of Mjölnir.” 

Loki hummed, most of his attention on his brother’s shorn hair. It had been a shock to see him without his long locks, and he was not sure he approved of the change. He reached over and stroked a finger over Thor’s nape.

Thor shivered and gave him a frustrated glare. “I do not have the leisure to play with you.”

“Were you going somewhere?” he asked lightly and chuckled when Thor banged a fist against the wall, making it shake. 

“Come now,” Loki purred, stepping closer. “This is the first quiet moment we’ve had since our reunion.” 

“Do not think I’ve forgiven you. I thought you dead, only to find you playing at being a king.”

Thor’s body was hard and warm against his as he whispered in his ear, “What makes you think I want your forgiveness?”

Thor turned swiftly, gripping his shoulders, fingers digging into his arms. His brother had always been easy to read, but for once, Loki couldn’t discern the expression in his eyes. The rough press of his mouth was simple enough, though, and he yielded, matching his brother’s hunger with his own. For all the pleasures of being a king, he _had_ missed this.

Thor’s eyes were dark when he pulled away, and Loki wondered what he would have to do to provoke them into turning silver, glowing with power.

“Get on your knees for me, brother,” Loki whispered, and Thor obeyed, strong hands sliding down his body.

Loki went to grab his hair, to yank and direct him as he desired, but his fingers grasped nothing. Instead, he could only run his fingers through the short, ragged locks, molding his hands to Thor’s head. It was somehow more intimate than before, an unwilling tenderness.

Thor seemed to feel it too, for he rested his face against Loki’s hip, eyes squeezed shut, arms slipping around Loki’s waist. “You’re truly here,” he mumbled. “Alive, when I thought you dead.”

Loki did not care for the emotion clawing in his chest, and yet he could not stop his fingers from gentling, stroking. 

He struggled, though, when Thor suddenly pulled him down, his knees hitting the floor with a painful thud. “Do not—let me go,” he protested as Thor squeezed him close, his embrace so strong he could scarcely breathe. 

“Be still, brother. Be still and let me hold you.” 

It was futile to try and break Thor’s hold, and after a moment he relaxed, grudging. He allowed another kiss, then found to his displeasure that Thor could still grip _his_ hair, could twist it in his fist and hold him there, his mouth insistent. 

This time, when Thor pulled away and met his eyes, Loki could read the sadness there. “Mother and now Father—they’re gone.”

“And we discovered a sister we’d be better off without,” Loki added because he didn’t want to think about Frigga or Odin or the long, long days he’d spent wearing Odin’s face and seeing it stare back at him in the mirror, judging. 

“But you’re here with me,” Thor said, and he traced Loki’s cheekbone with his thumb, horribly gentle. 

It was too much, and he used all of his strength to push Thor away and scramble to his feet. “I only want your mouth, not your sentimental drivel. Usually you’re willing enough, after a fight, when your blood is up. But if you won’t cooperate, then I’ll leave and find a more pleasant companion.” 

Thor had sat back on his knees, watching him, and his eyes were soft. How the pity, the understanding there grated and chafed. When had Thor become so perceptive? How could he manage to see through him, to all that Loki wanted to keep in the shadows? 

He wanted Thor’s power, his rough grace—wanted it to smother him, drive out thought and emotion to leave only base need. Instead he was offered tenderness and love, even after everything. 

“Try not to get defeated by someone even stupider than you, dear brother,” Loki said and left, leaving Thor kneeling on the floor in the empty room. 

*

In the end, it was the same game as always. Despite his tricks, his prevarications, he ended up on Asgard, fighting at his brother’s side. Because Thor was right. He didn’t want to be left on that planet alone.

And when the lightning raged down from the sky, pride burned fiercely in his heart, and desire licked at its heels.

*

He was the one who tended Thor’s wounds afterwards. He cleaned away the blood and knit flesh together with a whispered spell. But he couldn’t restore the eye.

Thor was stoic through it all, and uncharacteristically silent, but when Loki had finished, he pulled him down onto the bed, pushing impatiently at the cloth and leather between them.

Their harsh breaths soon filled the room, and he couldn’t keep back the moan when a few leftover sparks tingled against his skin as Thor touched him. 

It was messy and fast, and he still missed being able to wind his fingers in Thor’s hair. He ended up on his stomach, half-covered by Thor’s body, pleasure and exhaustion leaving him lax and too tired to protest the string of kisses along his shoulders and the way their legs had tangled together. 

Their home was gone. The places they played together as children were gone. All the secret ways he had pried into, the garden Frigga had loved, the endless play of light across the Bifrost—gone. 

“I’m going to be king now,” Thor said, and Loki twitched, torn from the now bitter ache of his memories of Asgard. 

“I know that well enough,” he snapped.

Thor sat up a little, wincing as the movement pulled at his wounds. He looked down at Loki and brushed some strands of hair off Loki’s forehead. 

Loki turned his face into the pillow.

“You’re going to swear your fealty to me, brother.”

He squirmed and ground his teeth together. But then Thor’s hands were touching him again, smoothing along the line of his spine, so very gentle. 

“I suppose you will be plotting a coup within a fortnight,” Thor added. 

“You know me too well,” he muttered, and Thor laughed and settled next to him.

Loki dozed at his side, consoling himself with the fact that the real power was often behind the throne and thinking of how it would feel to have lightning dancing at his fingertips.


End file.
